


Dedication

by halosun



Category: Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Missing Scene, Pining, composer!Laurie, mostly book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halosun/pseuds/halosun
Summary: Laurie falls in love through opera, Amy falls in love through letters.A more in-depth exploration of Laurie and Amy's changing feelings in "Learning to Forget"
Relationships: Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 23
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

The soprano had blonde hair.

This was all Laurie could think as he sat at the Royal Opera Theater watching a production of Don Giovanni. He wasn’t sure why this bothered him so much. Her voice was beautiful, and she sang her aria with a strength and passion that led to raucous applause and multiple calls for an encore. But Laurie found himself wishing that her hair was chestnut instead, like Jo’s, as her golden curls reminded him too much of another March sister he would rather not think about at present.

Soon though, the magic of Mozart’s music overtook him and he sat back to enjoy the rest of the opera. He rushed home that night and, feeling inspired, played a few excerpts of his own opera, hoping to discover a similar stroke of genius. He played through his all best parts, and while quite good, they still paled in comparison to the music he had heard that night. With a long sigh, Laurie resigned himself to the truth he felt he had known, deep down, for a long time. Amy was right; talent was not genius.

Now that he had accepted this fact, Laurie hoped that he would finally be able to stop thinking about Amy and go back to mourning Jo in peace. His memories of Amy in the gardens of Valrosa taunted him daily, and though he was loathe to admit it, he missed her. It didn’t help that every blonde girl or lady dressed in blue on the streets of Vienna made his heart nearly stop, as if he secretly feared (and hoped) that Amy had come to see him. But she was far away in Nice, and, as he could scarcely forget, despised him.

Every day, he pictured the look on her face when she said that: sad, but resolute. He had thrown himself into his music not only as an effort to “make” Jo love him, but to prove to Amy that he could do something good and useful with his life. But composing no longer seemed as useful as it once did, and as Laurie cast around for some new employment, he remembered Amy’s plea to keep his promise and work for his grandfather. This time, he took her advice, and was off to Frankfurt the next morning.

Working for his grandfather was hard, yet satisfying, and kept Laurie’s mind off of his romantic woes. After Jo refused him, he was determined to mourn her all his days and never love another. But lately, it seemed as though his heart had other plans. He went to a Liederabend one night fully prepared to listen to beautiful arrangements of German poetry and have his heart ache for Jo. Instead, he sat there listening to a tender rendition of Robert Schumann’s “Widmung” and could not stop thinking about the last line of the song: “du hebst mich liebend uber mich, mein guter Giest, mein bess’res ich.”

You raise me, lovingly, above myself; my good angel, my better half.

He turned these words over in his mind as he walked home that night. Was that what love was supposed to be? Jo…as much as he cared for her, was not his other half. They were too similar. Like two magnets of the same charge that would not attract each other no matter how much they tried. But then who was? The answer came to him almost as swiftly as he thought the question. Amy.

This revelation was quite distressing to Laurie. How could his heart be so unfaithful to Jo? And with her sister no less! Even if he was in love with Amy, she was very nearly promised to Fred and likely wanted nothing to do with him, no matter how strongly he felt for her.

He rebelled against these feelings by writing to Jo, almost begging her to prove him wrong, to change her mind. Her answer came quickly, but her refusal was firm. Instead, she told him that Beth was very sick and asked him write to Amy, who seemed lonely and homesick, and Laurie felt awful that he had ever been so selfish.

And so, after setting away his mementos of Jo for good, Laurie swallowed his pride and wrote his long overdue letter.

Dear Amy,

I hope you will forgive me for neglecting our correspondence for so long. I could say that I’ve been busy, and I have, composing and now working for Grandfather, but in truth I did not write earlier because I was ashamed of how I acted in Nice. You were right about everything, and I am sorry that it took me so long to realize that. I admire you and the improvements you’ve made since coming to Europe so much; even if you despise me.

There is a beautiful church in Vienna called St. Stefan’s, where I often went for mass when I was trying to clear my head from composing. I think you would love to sketch its soaring towers and colorful roof. Even if you never become a famous artist, I hope you’ll still continue to draw, at least for your family and friends, as we will always be proud of our “little Raphaella”.

Yours truly,

Laurie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little quarantine fic that I couldn't get out of my head. Un-betaed and first time writing for this couple because the 2019 movie revived my love for them. Glad they're finally getting the attention they deserve.
> 
> Here's a recording of the song Laurie heard at the Liederabend, "Widmung" by Robert Schumann  
> https://youtu.be/RIvuXrAN8co
> 
> Title is from the English translation of the German word "widmung".


	2. Chapter 2

Amy was used to making sacrifices. A new dress, drawing lessons, her precious pickled limes, all were sacrifices that were difficult but a necessary part of growing up a poor man’s daughter.

But the hardest sacrifice of all was her ambition of becoming an artist. In Rome, surrounded by the splendor of ancient Roman temples, beautiful paintings, and grand cathedrals, she felt more and more insignificant every day. But it was one afternoon in the Basilica of St. Peter as she gazed at Michelangelo’s famous Pieta, when Amy realized her talents were simply not enough to create something as beautiful as what was in front of her, something that was truly genius.

She allowed herself one day to mourn her long-held dream, then quietly resigned herself to a new ambition. If she could not make a fortune as an artist, she must marry a rich gentleman and become an ornament to society, and in that way support herself and her family. Thankfully, there was Fred Vaughn, who was rich, a gentleman, and fairly agreeable, and Amy was almost certain that if he had not been called away so suddenly in Heidelberg he would have proposed to her, and would be very likely to ask again.

Amy thought her plan very reasonable, so Laurie’s face when she told it to him (in so many words) bothered her. He had looked very grave and almost disappointed; and oddly, Amy had found it difficult to look him in the eye. His questions about Fred were one of the only things that day, prior to her scolding, that seemed to bring him out of his lazy stupor.

She had not heard from him since the note he sent her the morning after their awkward farewell. She had been worried that he was still angry with her, so she was pleasantly surprised to find a letter in his scrawling hand at the post office several weeks after his departure.

She read it quickly, and just as quickly wrote a response that went out only the next day.

Dear Laurie,

It is so good to hear from you! Letters from home arrive so infrequently these days, so seeing a familiar hand like yours is such a comfort. It reminds me of our little post-office that you built between our houses, do you remember? What I wouldn’t give to see that post-office now! I hope I don’t sound selfish, as I love Europe and I am so grateful to be here, but sometimes I miss home so much it makes my heart ache. 

And Laurie, I don’t despise you. I was only sad to see you wasting your talents and energy because I know how hardworking and generous you are, when you choose to be. But it seems like you have finally found good and useful work with your grandfather, and in that case I am so proud of you, and I know Jo and everyone else at home would be too. 

Vienna sounds like a beautiful city, and I would love to sketch St. Stefan’s if I ever get the chance to visit. Some days, I admit, are hard to find the motivation to keep drawing, as I think what is the point if I am never to become a great artist? But then I remember how happy my sketches make me and how happy they make other people, and that is what keeps me drawing.

I’ve enclosed a little sketch of some roses I found on a wall outside our hotel the other day. They are not as beautiful as the ones we found in Valrosa, but these ones won’t injure you with their thorns, and I hope that they will remind you of “a honeymoon paradise”.

Yours truly,

Amy

Their correspondence flourished over the next few weeks, and reading Laurie’s letters quickly became the highlight of Amy’s day. He assured her that there was nothing wrong with being homesick, and his letters were full of funny stories, news from Germany, and charming little presents that made her smile.

She was so glad he didn’t hate her for the all the horrible things she said to him. She did not regret her lecture, as it needed to be said, but she did regret that she had not realized that Jo was the main cause of his apathy. It should not have been so surprising though, as it was clear that Laurie was very fond of her, and Amy, like the rest of her family, supposed that they would marry one day. But apparently Jo had other plans. 

Poor Laurie! It should be so easy to love him, Amy thought, as he was so good and kind, but one cannot force themselves to love someone they do not, no matter how much they may want to.

As she thought this, her mind went inexplicably to Fred. But no, that was different, Amy told herself. She was fond of Fred and fondness could very easily turn to love by-and-by, if only she gave it a chance.

To keep her mind from these troubling thoughts, she went out to draw in the garden that afternoon but did not accomplish much, only a rough sketch of a man asleep on the grass with a hat over his head.

One day in April, Amy drove to the post office to see if Laurie’s weekly letter had arrived yet. The postmaster handed her an letter, but her familiar rush of excitement was dampened somewhat when she realized it was Fred’s hand on the envelope, not Laurie’s. Fred was coming to Nice. His letter stated that he would arrive at the end of the week, and Amy had no doubt what his intentions for returning were. 

He arrived that Saturday morning, and though he smiled widely at their meeting and sweetly kissed her hand, Amy could not feel anything more than a cordial affection towards him. In that moment, she knew she could not marry him. She did not love him, she had to admit, and neither could she force herself to do so.

She rejected his proposal kindly, but firmly. Fred seemed confused, but took it fairly well.

“I don’t understand, Amy, is there someone else? Is it Laurie?”

Her heart nearly skipped a beat at the mention of Laurie’s name, but Amy quickly shook her head. “No, Fred, there isn’t anyone else. It’s only— you deserve a women who will love you just as much as you love her. And I know that woman isn’t me. I’m sorry.”

Amy kept her composure well enough until she was back in her hotel room, where she promptly burst into tears. It was not her future with Fred she cried for, but rather herself. She was so lonely, so far away from her family, and she knew now that she no longer cared to be a queen of society. All she longed for was a husband she loved who loved her in return.

To comfort herself, she read one of Laurie’s old letters again, and smiled down at his now beloved signature. But something Fred had said that morning made her pause. Why did he think she had refused him because of Laurie? She had often talked about Laurie when she and Fred were together, but no more than she talked about her sisters or her other friends. It was true she cared deeply for him, but she had never even allowed herself to think of him as anything more than a brother. Jo was his favorite, and always would be. Still, ever since he came to Europe, Amy had to admit that they had grown much closer.

She had not told Laurie that Fred was coming back in her most recent letter, feeling a strange sort of shame at the prospect of doing so, as if she could feel his inevitable disappointment even across the hundreds of miles that separated them. In the end though, Laurie was right; Fred was not the man for her. She contrasted their meeting that morning with the excitement of her and Laurie’s reunion in Nice, her anticipation of Laurie’s letters and her general indifference of Fred’s. She thought of how handsome Laurie looked at the Christmas ball, how proud she was to be on his arm that night, how she longed to see him again but would not dare ask him back because he had finally found a purpose in his life, how proud she was of the man he was becoming.

She sat up suddenly, stricken with a realization. Perhaps she was in love with Laurie after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments on my last chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little window into Amy's perspective. We don't really get to see her process of falling in love with Laurie in the book, which is a shame because she's such an interesting character, so I've tried to fill in some of the gaps.
> 
> I have one more chapter planned for when Laurie and Amy are in Vevey, set some time after their reunion but before Laurie's proposal, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading that!


	3. Chapter 3

There was a little chapel in Vevey, shaded by pines and overlooking the blue lake and mountains, where Amy often went to sit quietly and think of Beth. The chapel’s gray stone walls and beautiful stained glass windows comforted her, as there were many times she felt very guilty for not being home to say goodbye.

Laurie had arrived in Vevey three weeks ago, and his presence was such a comfort to Amy. When she heard the news of Beth’s passing, she resolved to mourn her quietly and did not dare show the depths of her distress to the Carroll's, kind as they were, as she did not want to burden them. But when she looked up that one afternoon to see Laurie standing in front of her in the chestnut garden, it felt as if she had been holding her breath for days and for the first time she could finally exhale. He was so kind to her, and she trusted him entirely to see what she had never shown anyone else before; the rough edges of her grief and the softer sides of her character.

She walked into the chapel one early morning and smiled to see a rosary left on a little alter just outside the chapel doors, thinking of the rosary Esther had given her at Aunt March’s house all those years ago. As she walked into the empty sanctuary, she heard what sounded like piano music. Curious, she followed the sound to a little room just outside the sanctuary where the cantors went to practice their chants. 

The door was ajar, and Amy peered in, surprised to see Laurie at the piano with a look of deep concentration on his face. He played energetically and with a passion that made Amy’s breath catch in several places. The song had a beautiful melody she vaguely remembered hearing before somewhere, and she let him finish the piece before she made her presence known. 

“You never played that for us at home,” Amy said once the last chord had faded into silence. “I never realized just how good a pianist you are.”

Laurie turned, looking surprised but pleased to see her. “Grandfather did not like for me to show off” he said, smiling. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?”

“I sometimes come here to look at the artwork when I feel very homesick” Amy said. She walked up to the piano and sat on the bench beside him. “What about you?”

“This song has been in my head constantly for the past few days” he said, “and when I heard that this chapel had a piano and was open for visitors, I knew I had to go and play it.”

“It does sound familiar,” Amy said. “What is it called?”

“It’s a transcription of a German song by Robert Schumann, “Widmung.”

Amy peered at the sheet music. She did not read music, so the notes and rhythms on the page were only mysterious symbols to her, but her eye was drawn to the corner of the page where the publisher had written the poem from the original song.

“What does it mean?” she asked Laurie. “My German is not nearly as good as my French I’m afraid” she said, blushing.

Laurie smiled, but did not tease her as he may have when they were younger. “I only know a rough translation,” he explained, “but it goes something like this:”

“You are my heart and my soul. You are my pain and my bliss. You are the world in which I live, you are the heaven in which I float. Oh, you are my grave into which I forever cast my grief. You are rest, you are peace, you are given to me from heaven. Your love for me gives me my worth, your gaze has transfigured me. You raise me, lovingly, above myself, my sweet angel, my better half.”

He looked at her so intensely as he said the last two sentences that Amy could feel her face go red in spite of herself, and she quickly looked down at her hands. She had often wondered in those first few days after his arrival in Vevey if he truly loved her as much as she loved him. Was he actually over Jo, or was his presence simply a friendly kindness in the face of their shared tragedy? But then she would catch him looking at her the way he was looking at her now, and all her doubts flew away with the hopeful flutters of her heart.

“It’s beautiful,” she said simply when she had finally found her voice.

Laurie nodded. “I thought about those words a lot when I was in Germany” he said.

Amy touched the piano keys in front of her softly. “Will you teach me how to play?” she asked Laurie. “Whenever Beth played it made everyone so happy, and it makes me sad to think that her little piano may become neglected. I don’t ask because I want the attention,” she added quickly, “but I want to honor her memory by playing some of her favorite hymns, to remind myself to be as good and kind as she was.”

Laurie understood completely, and loved her all the more for it. He was suddenly reminded of her old turquoise ring and the will she had him witness at Aunt March’s house, and thought that Amy March was a lot more selfless than she gave herself credit for.

“I’d be honored to,” he said, taking her hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

He looked as though he was going to say more, but was interrupted by the sound of the sanctuary doors opening; the priest had come by to practice his sermon. 

“I think I should go” Amy said, dropping her hand and standing up slowly, reluctant to end the brief moment of tender understanding that had passed between them.

Laurie nodded and did the same. “May I walk you back to your hotel, my lady?” he asked.

“Of course, my lord.”

They smiled at each other, and Amy drew her arm through his as the young lovers stepped out into the dappled morning sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me to the end of this little story! I really enjoyed expanding on the Amy/Laurie relationship from the book, and even though I'm not as good at in-person dialogue, especially in this style, I hope you enjoyed it regardless.
> 
> I included a few Easter eggs from the book too, including a reference to Amy learning how to play piano, which is mentioned briefly in the chapter where the March's all reunite in Concord. This is my interpretation of maybe how that came about. 
> 
> Here's the song that Laurie was playing, a piano transcription of "Widmung" by Franz Liszt https://youtu.be/-5_jzx1mPLA
> 
> Thanks again for all your kind comments and kudos :)


End file.
